


Sip Bacardi Like It's Your Birthday

by WebbedUpKatanas



Category: Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Drunk confessions, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4544250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WebbedUpKatanas/pseuds/WebbedUpKatanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For my first spideynova week domestic au I bring you drunken marriage proposals, a touch of angst, and a few cute smooches to soothe the heartache.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sip Bacardi Like It's Your Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> As always thank you to the people who helped with this and made it better than I could have on my own. Namely an anon who requested it, and my friends who helped with rewritting and keeping me from losing it while I wrote this late at night. Also thank you to you for reading it. I always appreciate kudos and comments so very much, even if I suck at answering them.

By ten o'clock Peter’s birthday party was in full swing and Peter was having a great time, if he did say so himself.

 

Okay, so if he’s being honest, he’d initially been kind of dreading tonight for a lot of reasons. Loud rooms full of people aren’t exactly his thing, and the fact that they’d all be focused on him?Yeah that had definitely been making his palms sweat. MJ had promised a gathering of only his closest friends and a few people from their college days, but knowing her he had been certain that he was about to walk in to a room full of her actor and actress friends, their entire graduating class and half of the city of New York.

 

He’d been pleasantly surprised to find that wasn’t the case. Sure there are a few unfamiliar faces, but mostly it seems that she had stuck to inviting friends and acquaintances, all of whom seem genuinely happy to see him. Despite his initial doubts (which he’s sure MJ wont let him live down any time soon) he has to admit this has been pretty great. He’s full to the brim of a cake that costs more than his apartment, there is a bar filled with enough booze that it could probably drown Godzilla (and that big ol lizard lives in the ocean) and his friends keep patting him on the back like existing for another year is one of the greatest achievements he could have possibly made (which he has to firmly tell the negative part of his brain is not at all true). He’s even been drinking at MJ’s insistence, which he doesn’t do a lot of but… well tonight is a special occasion.

 

Just as he finished a conversation with a girl from the Bugle and was looking around a little helplessly when MJ and Ava had latched onto him.

 

They had spent most of the party whispering in a corner, practically reenacting every clip art accompanying the gossip column of a teen magazine. Hands shielding ears, the whole nine yards, even if by drink number 8 (he’s technically lost count by now but 8 is a good solid number) he’s not really focusing on their weird behavior as much as how shiny MJ’s hair is in her hipster lighting.

 

He was somewhere around drink number 9.6 when they stormed over in a small battalion of nail art and channel number whatever-who-can-even-tell. 

 

They had even gotten him to dance pretty easily even if MJ had to swear she wasn’t laughing at him every 2 minutes. Which she was. MJ is not as sneaky as she thinks she is, Peter resolutely mumbles to himself, while he does his best to out shimmy Ava Ayala in all her pleated mini skirt glory. He doesn’t even feel all that left out when Ava ends up dancing a lot closer to MJ than he’s fully comfortable with. There’s barely room between them for a bacteria culture to grow, and Peter is distinctly reminded of high school dances when the teachers had protested that they ‘leave room for the holy spirit’.

 

Then they had tugged him around the party like they were his own personal overbearing and drastically underdressed bodyguards, and eventually dumped him on the couch next to Sam.

 

The girls and Sam had made small talk for while, and Peter had let his head lull back against the cushions, smiling at the ceiling until they had claimed they needed to mingle and took their leave.

 

Peter watches them go suspiciously, and sure enough their dirty lying high heeled feet lead them straight back to the dance floor where he can almost imagine a scandalized Mrs. Whyte threatening to call the principal if they didn’t stop that 'sin campfire born of pelvic gyrations’.

 

When he finally tunes back in to his surroundings Sam is laughing at him, but honestly that’s okay too. He doesn’t mind anything right now, especially not if it has to do with a happy Sam.

 

“The look on your face right now is so stupid,” Sam tells him cheerfully.

 

“The look on your face is always stupid,” is Peter’s witty and cuttingly clever comeback, which for some reason just makes Sam laugh a little harder instead of running home to cry to his mamma.

 

Silence stretches between them like an unwelcome party crasher, the kind that breaks in steals all your booze, eats all the mini sausages and then makes you feel uncomfortable when you try to kick them out. Peter doesn’t like the silence. He didn’t invite this asshole, and he won’t have this kind of behaviour on his birthday.

 

So Peter has to admit that it’s maybe a little bit possible that he’s just the slightest bit drunk when he leans forward, stares straight into Sam’s eyes, and with great ceremony places his hand right on his knee.

 

“Uh… hi?” Sam says, looking far too amused for such a serious situation despite his confusion.

 

“Sam,” Peter says, schooling his features into what he hopes is an expression that will convey the magnitude of this moment. “Sam Alexander.”

 

“Peter Parker,” Sam replies, that little smile getting even wider. If Peter were more sober he might have even called it 'fondly amused’ but as it is he mostly finds it annoying. Well… annoying and weirdly hot.

 

“Do you remember high school?”

 

Sam blinks at him.

 

“Duh. Do you? Because if not it’s probably time to put the booze away,” Sam tells him, shifting slightly as Peter’s hand squeezes his leg.

 

“You didn’t let me finish Bucky… Bucket… Brain,” Peter gets a little bit distracted by Sam’s eyes. There’s a part of his brain that’s screaming at him about how stupid he’s acting, but the part that is currently floating in an Olympic sized pool filled with booze drinking a martini doesn’t seem to be listening.

 

“Alright Pete, I think maybe I should take you home,” Sam laughs, which is a really nice sound. And he can’t deny that the idea of Sam taking him home is a little bit thrilling, even after he remembers that are in fact living together to save money on apartments in New York.

 

“Yeah, you can take me home,” he hums, his eyes flickering down to Sam’s lips for a brief moment before moving back up to look him in the eye. “But you gotta let me finish first.”

 

“Oh you actually had a point?” Sam laughs, the sound going a little shaky and the slightest bit breathier when Peter leans in closer to nod earnestly.

 

“I always have a point. I have points pointier than that star on your helmet, you just never listen,” Peter pouts, trying to lean in even closer. Unfortunately no one appears to have told the world about his leaning plans as it chooses that moment to wobble, making him overcompensate and smash his forehead into Sam’s shoulder.

 

“Ouch.”

 

He pouts more as Sam starts to laugh at him, but the annoyance only lasts up until a hesitant hand buries itself in his hair, stroking his head gently.

 

“Look who’s talking. The guy who didn’t even know I lived in space,” Sam says, sounding like a smug little jerk.

 

“Ah. So you do remember high school,” Peter mutters against Sam’s shirt, giggling a little when Sam scratches at his head in a way that makes him melt a little, but also makes him feel like he’s Sam’s favourite lap cat.

 

“You’re really smashed aren’t you?” his friend’s voice is fond and more than a little amused, but Peter doesn’t really mind. Sam’s hand is still kinda petting his head, he’s warm, and cozy and his hand is still on Sam’s lap. All in all everything feels nice and a little bit hazy.

 

He hasn’t been this drunk in forever. He also hasn’t been held in forever, and right now the only person’s arms he can think about are Sam’s.

 

“Remember that time after Ava’s birthday? We were up on the uh… the liberty dude with the torch,” Peter says, smirking at the inside joke. Sam had apparently thought Lady Liberty was a guy at a toga party inexplicably brandishing a torch when he was younger, and to this day thirteen years later they still call the statue Liberty Dude.

 

Sam’s hand stills and Peter turns his head to look at him, but all he gets is a close up view of his neck and right now he’s too lazy (drunk) to lift his head up.

 

“We were looking at the water and all the lights, and I was freezing, so you put your arm around me,” Peter says, quieter now as he remembers the atmosphere up there, huddled together and laughing quietly about the events of the party. The sounds of New York had seemed to fade to a soft hum in the background, leaving only his and Sam’s voices, their breathing in sync as they had leaned against each other to share their warmth. “And then we started talking about Luke and Jess.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam finally chimes in, his hand sliding from Peter’s hair down to cup the back of his neck. “They were getting engaged. Which was totally crazy because we were only like seventeen, even though they were going to wait a few years to do the actual wedding.”

 

Peter hums in agreement, tempted to nuzzle his face against Sam, but thankfully he doesn’t seem to be that drunk yet.

 

“But do you remember? After we talked about marriage and ages and all… all that shit?” Peter asks, suddenly feeling like he’s in high school again, unable to say what he wants to, especially if it has to do with feelings. Then again, the fact that he’s lived with Sam for three years now, and has been into him for even longer, without saying a word about it kinda suggests that he might never have gotten over those pesky communication issues.

 

Back then he hadn’t even been drunk. They’d just both been buzzing with the thrill of their proximity, with the almost tangible undertone of unsaid things hanging heavy in the air between them. It had been nice not fighting or bickering at all, not even playfully, as they had talked about how difficult it is to find people to date let alone marry when you’re a super hero.

 

The problem with leaning against someone all alone with the lights of your city twinkling below you and nothing but clear night air around you is that it makes it hard to keep from voicing any and every thought that comes to your mind. Something about the height and the closeness makes it feel like you’re floating, like the whole world has fallen away and you can speak all the words that you’d normally bite back.

 

And once those words are out you can’t take them back.

 

The worst part is, he hadn’t even known how much those words would come to mean to him, how they would haunt him in the back of his mind and hold so much more weight in the future than they did when he first said them.

 

Sam had been going on and on about how he’d probably never find someone, or at the very least end up marrying some kind of space alien just so he wont be lonely. Peter had laughed sympathetically, leaning in closer before he spoke.

 

“Hey I don’t even have the option of going to the moon to find someone dude. Maybe we should just make a pact to marry each other if we turn thirty and still don’t have anyone.”

 

He had regretted it almost immediately after he said it.

 

He had just been joking of course, but the way that Sam had looked at him then had made his heart stop. A slow, considering look, far more serious than Peter had expected. He’d been about half a second from diving off the edge of the statue and swinging into the night, never to be seen again, when Sam had finally grinned at him and stuck out his hand to shake Peter’s.

 

“You got yourself a deal Dorkasaurus.”

 

Then Peter had made a jab about how he needed to start preparing himself for the torture of living with Sam early, and from there the weird tension had dissipated as they had gotten into a brief shoving match complete with a lot of very manful giggling.

 

“Peter…”

 

Peter blinks as Sam’s voice brings him back to the present.

 

He sounds like he’s about to tell him he’s drunk again and change the subject, and that is definitely not okay because Peter knows he’s drunk, but he also knows that if they don’t talk about this now, he’s going to chicken out again.

 

He leans back so that he can see Sam’s face and frowns at him.

 

“Do you remember?”

 

Sam looks away, seeming a little bit angry for some strange reason.

 

“Yeah yeah, I remember,” he mutters, frowning.

 

“You know what day it is today?” Peter asks innocently, forging on despite the warning signs that Sam might not exactly be as happy to be having this conversation as he is.

 

Sam pauses to think about it for a moment. “The day I finally kill you and throw your body into the sun?”

 

“Nope,” he says, with just a hint of amusement. “It’s my thirtieth birthday.” Peter punctuates that sentence by drawing a little circle on Sam’s thigh.

 

Sam very deliberately moves his leg away.

 

“Peter don’t,” he says flatly.

 

Peter looks at him with a tiny pout of confusion, because this isn’t exactly how he figured this would go. Not that he had thought it would happen like this in general, or had thought this through at all, but the confessing part wasn’t really shocking. After all, he had been looking for a good way to ask Sam out since college.

 

Except it’s becoming obvious that he should have kept waiting, because now that he thinks about it a drunken proposal might not exactly be the perfect opportunity he was waiting for.

 

“You shook on it and everything,” he tries, but Sam is frowning so hard at the hardwood floor now that if looks could kill the one on Sam’s face would be a Canadian lumberjack with hate in his heart and an axe that hungers for oak.

 

“You know what? Let’s just go home. You’re obviously a lot more trashed than I thought you were,” Sam grinds out through his teeth, shifting to stand and almost knocking Peter off of the couch.

 

“What? Wait Sam, hold on,” Peter struggles to get up and trips over his own legs, crashing back down on the cushions. He frowns at Sam as he turns around to look, that frown that crinkles up his forehead and makes Sam relent no matter what every single time.

 

This time is no exception, as Sam walks back with a loud sigh and grabs Peter by his arms to haul him up. Sometimes knowing someone for as long as they’ve known each other has it’s advantages.

 

“You seriously can’t even walk on your own right now can you? It’s like having the world’s most annoying toddler,” Sam huffs, wrapping his arm around Peter’s waist. Pete slings his arm over his shoulder, happy to have the support. Sam is barely shorter than him anymore so it’s easy to walk along like that, only the other times one of them has had to carry the other home Sam has never felt this stiff.

“You love me,” Peter says, using his drunkenness as an excuse to lean against Sam more than is strictly necessary.

 

“Stop,” Sam bites out, turning his face away again.

 

“You wanna marry meeee,” he hears his mouth sing song, which… no. Bad mouth. Why would you do that?

 

Sam shoves him away, validating the fact that that was a terrible plan, and it’s only because the alcohol has worn off a little that Peter doesn’t fall on his ass.

 

“I said stop okay!? I know you’re like… completely oblivious 90% of the time but just shut up about this okay? Just don’t.”

 

Peter blinks. Him? Oblivious?

 

“What do you mean oblivious?” he asks with a huge frown.

 

“Really? Really Pete?! You never catch on to anything! If you haven’t noticed what I’m talking about since god damn high school then you might as well just fucking drop it. I’ve already given up thinking-” Sam pauses, closing his eyes, his fists clenched at his sides like he’s trying really hard not to punch something. “You know what? Forget about it. Let’s go home Parker. I hope you have the worst hangover of your life tomorrow.”

 

“Sam. Don’t be like that Sam. Dude, seriously,” Peter grabs his shoulders, not putting any strength into it just in case Sam wants to break free. He seems like he’s considering it, but ultimately he just sags a little, keeping his eyes closed tight.

 

“Peter if this is some kind of stupid joke… it’s not funny okay?” he says, his voice breaking ever so slightly halfway through.

 

“Hey no, Sam no. It’s not a joke. It was stupid of me, I’m not… I was being stupid and I’m too drunk to do this, I should have waited until-”

 

“Well you’ve got one thing right,” Sam says, finally opening his eyes. He looks confused, and still a little angry, but also kind of heartbroken in a way that makes Peter feel like the biggest asshole in the world. “You’re definitely stupid.”

 

He huffs.

 

“Hey! Even if this was really dumb, it took a lot of courage and a hell of a lot of booze for me to confess this to you, so could you stop being so… so you and just listen for a second?”

 

Sam blinks at him, and then the corners of his mouth turn up, the slightest hint of a smile.

 

“Confess?” Sam asks, sounding the tiniest bit hopeful.

 

“Yeah confess. Because I really like you, and I’ve been trying to tell you for years but I just-” Peter buries his face in his hands. This is going terribly. This is worse than any other romantic declaration he’s ever made before, and he once asked a girl out by spilling sugar on her lap and telling her he’d always thought she was super sweet.

 

Yeah. That happened.

 

Pete figures maybe if he stands there with his face in his hands for long enough the rest of the party will disappear. Maybe Sam will walk away and he can go hide (aka cry) in the bathroom for the rest of the night and-

 

A hand gently eases it’s way between his fingers and his face, pulling his arms down to reveal his flushed cheeks. Oddly Sam doesn’t look mad anymore. He doesn’t even look upset or concerned or like he’s thinking about ending their friendship forever and ever. He just looks… amused.

 

“Are you actually seriously confessing your love to me by like… weirdly proposing? While you’re drunk?” Sam asks him in disbelief. “That’s the least romantic and absolute fucking stupid thing you’ve ever done.”

 

Peter frowns, but notes that at least Sam is actually smiling now. He sways a little as he takes a step closer, and Sam’s hands automatically come up to steady him.

 

“Like you could do better,” he chuckles, which Sam replies to by smiling and leaning in closer.

 

“Anyone could do better Webhead. You suck at this.”

 

Peter smiles, and after that it’s so so easy to just slide his arms around Sam’s shoulders and lean his head in until their lips are just a whisper away from touching. “Can I?” he asks, and then Sam is closing the distance, pressing their lips together and stealing the breath from Peter’s chest.

 

“Now we’re going home and going to bed,” Sam says, and then sighs when Peter waggles his eyebrows at him. “Alone.”

 

“Aww c'mon it’s my birthday! I don’t wanna go home yet if it’s not gonna be for fun reasons, the night’s just starting!” Peter whines, letting Sam steer him towards the door.

 

“The sooner you go to bed the sooner you can wake up and tell me that you like me when you aren’t drunk,” Sam huffs, squeezing Peter lightly.

 

“Ughh fiiiine,” he sighs, figuring that was fair enough. It’s not like he’d have believed that Sam liked him back if he’d been nearly as smashed as Peter feels right now. “Then can we kiss some more?” Peter remembers to ask the important question, pressing his lips against Sam’s hair as he talks. Sam squeezes him again, and when Peter moves to look he’s smiling halfway caught between fondness and disbelief.

 

Sam reaches up with his free hand, cupping Peter’s face as he leans up slightly and kisses him so tenderly it makes Peter’s knees weak. They linger like that for longer than they probably need to before the hand on his face smacks him lightly and Sam pulls away. “Yeah, then we can kiss some more… and see what else happens. After I kick your ass for being such a dick about this.”

 

“What?! I wasn’t a dick-” Peter argues as Sam rolls his eyes, gesturing at Luke and Danny that they are leaving. Peter waves at everyone, yelling out thank yous before he turns back to Sam to explain to him exactly why it’s actually Sam who’s the real dick and not him.

 

Unbeknownst to Peter and Sam, two women watch them leave from a corner, turning to toast each other once they’re gone.

 

“I knew he’s get sappy if we got him drunk enough,” MJ laughs, taking a sip of her drink.

 

“We all know Parker is a sap, I just want to know how you knew about that whole stupid marriage thing,” Ava replies, grinning like the cat that got the cream. She’s been waiting for this day for years, and it feels pretty excellent to be one of the masterminds behind these losers finally getting together. She plans on holding this over both of their heads for a very very very long time, and she’s sure Mary Jane feels the same way. After all, they’ve both been trying to make this happen separately for way longer than either of them would like to admit. It’s frankly almost embarrassing how many plans they’d both come up with that had failed due to the combined stupidity of their friends before they had finally teamed up to make this work.

 

MJ leans closer conspiratorially to answer Ava’s question, her eyes glimmering in the dim light. “Ava darling, that boy has been drunk confessing things to me since he first turned 21. You wouldn’t believe the dirt I have on him. Most of which I am fully willing to share if you play your cards right by the way.”

 

Ava bites her lip against her smile, not breaking eye contact as she says “You are absolutely evil. I might be in love with you.”

 

MJ throws her head back and laughs, looking beautiful and almost otherworldly in the soft glow of the fairy lights decorating her apartment walls.

 

“I guess Pete’s not the only one who made a love confession tonight,” she purrs, and in one fluid motion pulls Ava in for a quick but thoroughly heart stopping kiss. Ava’s eyes go wide, and her hand comes up to touch her lips before she smiles and lets MJ sling an arm over her shoulder to pull her in closer.

 

“No,” she says fondly. “I guess he’s not.”


End file.
